


Red Marks

by happy_waffles



Category: Persona 5
Genre: "I don't remember there being an explicitly written round 2 ??", But not right now, I like to occassionally go back and fix some stuff in my fics, M/M, and ever go like, but one day it'll be a reality lol, it's because I added it in lol, round 2 still just a thought in my head, so if you re-read this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 07:19:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16192769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happy_waffles/pseuds/happy_waffles
Summary: Akira calls Mishima over only to seduce him.





	Red Marks

“What do you think?”

Mishima didn’t know _what_ to think. He didn’t think he’d walk up the attic stairs to see Akira dressed up in what looked like a racy police woman’s uniform, sporting a curly wig and bright red lipstick. He didn’t think that Akira would look so _good_ in that outfit, or that he’d like seeing him wear it so much, either.

His mind reeling, his throat suddenly feeling dry, Mishima tries to dodge the question. “Why are you wearing…that…?”

“It’s my dancing outfit,” Akira bluntly answers, fluffing his hair. “Tell me what you think of it.”

Ah, no, not this dangerous question again! Mishima tries to switch topics. “For a cosplay party…? You know, I’ve read about those online. Things can get pretty crazy sometim—”

“ _Mishima_.”

A hand slams against the wall next to Mishima’s head, making him flinch.

“Just tell me. What. You. Think.”

Akira was too close. His red lips were just inches away from Mishima’s own, a sight that the blue-haired boy had difficulty keeping his eyes off.

Still, he refuses to answer, choosing instead to mumble something about the new Phan-Site post he came here to talk about.

It was stupid of him to think Akira would let him off the hook so easily.

In the midst of Mishima’s nervous rant about the new rumor, Akira’s eyes suddenly lit up and a devilish smile adorns his red lips.

“ _Yuuki_.”

Mishima cuts off his sentence, shocked and with a hard-core blush coloring his face.

“Please tell me what you think, _Yuuki_ ,” Akira softly says, a finger pushing Mishima’s chin up so that their eyes would meet.

 _That’s_ _not_ _fair_ , Mishima thinks, feeling weak under Akira’s relentless gaze. _I’m not used to you calling out my name…_

Mishima shuts his eyes tight, unable to endure Akira’s sharp gaze anymore.

“It’s…nice,” he finally admits.

“What is?”

Akira could be a bully sometimes.

Still, Mishima indulges him.

“Your outfit…looks nice…”

“ _Just_ nice?”

A _brutal_ bully, at that.

“Really…hot…too,” Mishima chokes out, his face getting redder, his eyes shut even tighter.

“Good boy,” Akira whispers against Mishima’s lips, and that’s all it takes for the blue-haired boy to break.

He opens his eyes and starts begging. “Please kih…kiss me, Kurusu,” he asks breathlessly, shakily, openly desperate now for his touch.

“Say my name, and I just might,” Akira answers, his lips only centimeters away, teasing Mishima with their proximity.

Mishima eagerly complies.

Shyly, he whispers,

“Ah…Aki…ra… _please_.”

Akira’s lips are on Mishima as soon as he finishes, niping at the phanboy’s soft lips, his tongue caressing the insides of his mouth, his gloved hands tugging at his hair.

Mishima is quickly overwhelmed; his knees give out, but Akira slides down with him, chasing the blue-haired boy’s lips. He wasn’t going to let him go that easily, not when they only just started.

And so he decides to sit directly on Mishima’s budding erection, prompting Mishima to gasp from surprise and pleasure. Akira smiles against the phanboy’s lips and starts rolling his hips, further stimulating him.

“Akira, Akira, Akira, _Akira_ —” Mishima begins to loudly chant, his restraint and shyness long abandoned.

It’s a shame that he has to shut him up, really, Akira laments. It’s not often that Mishima lets loose. But Sojiro was still downstairs entertaining the last straggling customers, so Akira doesn’t have a choice.

He bites down on Mishima’s bottom lip _hard_.

Mishima groans, feeling both pleasure and pain, but he does quiet down. As a reward, Akira starts to gently suck on Mishima’s bottom lip, occasionally licking the small sore he nicked him with.

With all the small, suppressed moans coming out of Mishima, Akira’s own erection was growing, enough that the blue-haired boy could clearly feel it against his own.

It was a point of pride for Mishima that he, a regular nobody, could make Akira, a frickin’ _Phantom_ _Thief_ , feel so aroused.

His heartbeat thumping in his ears, his mind giddy, Mishima slips his hand in between Akira’s thighs and squeezes the inner skin.

Akira lets out an appreciative hum and wraps his arms around Mishima’s back, letting his chin rest on the phanboy’s shoulder. “Continue,” is all he says into Mishima’s ears.

Mishima gulps, a little nervous to be left in control, but does indeed continue. He fingers the waistband of Akira’s tights before dipping a hand in and wrapping it around the base of Akira’s erection.

Blushing, he begins to pump his hand up and down, trying to make the phantom leader wet. With Akira’s small moans being broadcasted directly in his ears though, it looked like Mishima was actually the one becoming slick underneath.

Akira notices—when doesn’t he?—and starts rocking his hips to the rhythm of Mishima’s strokes, trying to create more friction so that the both of them could get off.

The friction proves too stimulating, and Mishima soon cums, with Akira close behind him. They both take a moment to steady their breathing before Akira rolls off of Mishima (the second he’s off, Mishima misses the heat from his thighs and wishes he stayed on him a little longer).

And then, for _some_ reason, Akira finds it necessary to retouch his makeup. Mishima can’t help but stare intently as Akira reapplies his lipstick quite slowly, feeling a renewed tent in his already wet jeans.

With a soft _pop_ of his red lips, the phantom leader turns to Mishima with a knowing smile and asks, “Ready for round two?”

He didn’t even have to ask. Mishima’s on him the second he finishes speaking, his mouth hungrily seeking Akira’s lips and his hands aching to touch him more.

…

Dizzy but satisfied, Mishima climbs down the attic stairs. Their round two must have been longer than their first one because everyone but Sojiro had left Leblanc.

“Have a good night, Boss,” Mishima calls out to him, trying to be polite. (He can’t just show up in his cafe and not have the decency to at least greet him, after all).

Sojiro takes one look at him and raises an eyebrow. “Looks like you already had a good night, kid,” he chuckles.

Mishima doesn’t understand the Boss’ words until he sees his reflection on the window of the last running train:

_He was covered in kiss marks._

The color red was all over his face—his lips were especially stained red—and even his neck was marked down.

No wonder the Boss had said that!

Mishima hid his kiss-marked face behind his hands, feeling his face grow warm. _Now_ he knows why the people on the train gave him such strange looks.

He wants to throttle Akira for letting him go out like this (because he surely did this on purpose), but, at the same time, Mishima feels a strange twinge of pride and happiness over it.

Because anyone who looks at him will know that he belonged to somebody, that somebody had cared enough to mark him unavailable, and that fact made Mishima unwilling to wipe away the red marks.

Instead, he was smiling quite stupidly to himself.


End file.
